


To Speak in Flowers

by angelofthequeers



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cheese, Crushes, F/M, Flowers, Fluff, Harvelle's Roadhouse, Just a short and sweet one, Kissing, Language of Flowers, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 12:15:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10386456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelofthequeers/pseuds/angelofthequeers
Summary: Every day, someone leaves Dean a flower. And every day, he wonders who this person is. When he does find out, he decides that a little reciprocation is in order...Or: in which Dean's life is a chick flick moment, Cas is adorkably shy, and Meg is a cheerful bitch.Written for the 'Destiel - Writers & Readers' Spring Challenge collection.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own SPN.
> 
> My source for the floriography in this fic is thelanguageofflowers.com. And this probably hits every cheesy cliché in human AU fics but meh, I don’t generally write human AU as a rule.

 

**Day 1:**

“Got an admirer, have we, Dean?”

Dean glowered at Jo and punched her on the arm – hard enough so that she’d feel it but not hard enough to leave a mark that he’d then have to explain to her mother.

“Hey!”

Satisfied that he’d gotten back at Jo, Dean turned his attention back to the object that had caused him to have to defend his honour: a red flower that had been left on a table in The Roadhouse – the restaurant slash bar they worked at – along with a small note that only read ‘Dean’ and ‘red carnation’ in elegant handwriting. Dean had been suspicious when a smirking Meg had dumped the cleaning up on him, then taken aback when he’d found the flower in the middle of the table.

“The hell?” he said. “Why would someone leave a random flower for me?”

“Maybe it means something,” Meg said slyly on her way to serve a table at the far end of the place. Dean’s head whipped up and he opened his mouth to ask her what she was talking about, but the dark-haired woman had already disappeared.

“She’s got a point,” Jo said cheerfully. “There’s a whole language around flowers. It’s pretty handy if you wanna get your point across without having to actually say anything.”

Dean frowned at her.

“You know how to speak flower?” he said sceptically. Jo grinned.

“Well, it was only a one-off,” she shrugged. “And I don’t think Walt needed some flower language website to tell him what a bunch of dead flowers meant.”

Dean cracked up at that. Until –

“Do I pay you to stand around like a bunch of jackasses?” a sharp voice said. Dean jumped nearly a foot in the air.

“No, ma’am,” he said quickly. Ellen smiled sweetly.

“Good. So get back to work, Winchester. And you should know better, Jo.”

Dean shivered as she walked off. Jo squinted at him.

“Are you scared of my _mother_?” she said incredulously.

”Dude, anyone who’s sane is scared of your mom!” Dean hissed. He could’ve sworn that Ellen had bat ears because she turned around as soon as he said that, her eyes narrowed, and he hurried to start clearing the table so that he could spray it down. Jo snickered.

“Well, good luck with your secret admirer. Hopefully they’re cute. And hopefully they’re not a stalker – y’know, like that Becky chick with your brother.”

Dean suppressed a shudder at the memory of Sam’s stalker, then hastened to do some work so that Ellen wouldn’t come over and terrorise him again.

Once his shift had finished and he was home – where Sam was sprawled across the sofa with his long limbs everywhere, snoring his head off – Dean booted up his laptop while his ramen noodles cooked in the microwave. He knew he really should eat something healthier than MSG-filled noodles with hardly any nutrition, but it had been a busier than expected night and he barely had the energy to even open the ramen packet and press the microwave buttons. He was also too tired to go looking up flower language, but his curiosity was burning. He _had_ to know!

Sure enough, once he typed ‘flower language’ and clicked into a site, he found carnations near the top of the list. He was mildly surprised to see just how many meanings carnations could have depending on their colour – and how different those meanings could be – and his stomach fluttered when he saw the meaning next to red carnation: _‘my heart aches for you; admiration’_.

Someone was in love with him? But who? His mind instantly jumped to Lisa Braeden but then he dismissed that thought; they’d agreed after their third break-up that it just wasn’t going to work, and Lisa wasn’t the sort to pine for someone anyway – if she wanted something, she took it. That had been one of the things he’d most admired about her. But who else could it be?

Dean strained to remember everybody who had sat at that table. His best friend Charlie had come in at some point…but she was gay _and_ practically his little sister, though he could see her doing something like this to mess with him. Then Jess Moore had sat there about half an hour after Charlie but it definitely couldn’t be her – she was engaged to Sam. The only other two people he could remember sitting at that table before he’d found the flower had been Castiel Shurley and his older brother, Michael. It was more likely that Michael had left the flower, because he’d always had a weird sort of fascination with Dean, but Dean hoped that it had been Castiel instead of Michael. He didn’t know much about Castiel but the guy was pretty cute, even if he didn’t say much. Dean vaguely remembered sharing an English class with him back in high school and having the biggest crush on the dorky guy, which still hadn’t gone away. But then again, just because those people had sat at that table didn’t mean that it had definitely been one of them. It could’ve just been left there randomly –

The sound of the microwave beeping snapped Dean out of his thoughts. Figuring that he wouldn’t find out who had left him the flower by just sitting there in a daze, he got up to fetch his unhealthy food so that he could turn in for the night. Let Sam bitch at him in the morning for his shitty eating habits.

* * *

 

**Day 2:**

“Hey, Winchester!”

Dean turned, only to have Gabriel shove something into his hands: a white flower.

“What –?”

“Tell this secret admirer of yours to quit being so cheesy,” Gabriel complained. “They’re making the rest of us look like cheap assholes.”

“How is that my fault?” Dean said, closing his fingers protectively around the precious cargo. “‘S not like I’m asking for them!”

Gabriel jabbed a finger at Dean. Over Gabriel’s shoulder, Dean saw that Castiel was in again that day and being served by Meg, who was leaning in awfully close as she whispered something in his ear. The sight slightly marred Dean’s good mood.

“I don’t care, Winchester. I got home the other night and told Kali about it and you know what she said?”

“Do I really care?”

“She said, ‘Why don’t _you_ ever do something like that for _me_?’ Now I gotta swing by Garden of Eden after work and get her a bunch of flowers or _I’ll_ look like the asshole!”

“I recommend getting her purple hyacinths,” Dean said brightly. “They mean ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘forgive me’. At least, that’s what the website said.”

Gabriel narrowed his eyes.

“I’m on to you, Winchester. You’re lucky I don’t think you’re a _total_ asswipe.”

Before Dean could reply to that backhanded compliment, Ellen emerged from the kitchen and they both rushed to get back to work before she came and tore strips from them. She zeroed in on Dean anyway.

“If you’ve got time to stand around chatting, you’ve got time to make sure that this place is cleaner than Jo’s room!”

“Hey!” Jo shouted from the bar. Dean just grinned. Everybody who worked here was like family and he loved having a boss who didn’t hesitate to roast them for all they were worth…until he was the target, of course.

Realising that Ellen was glaring at him, Dean scrambled off to see what needed to be done. He spent the next hour darting around, serving customers and cleaning tables and tending to the bar when Jo needed help, and by the time he stopped at yet another table to jot down their order, he was ready to curl up and sleep for five years. Best damn restaurant in the area, yeah…if you weren’t working the lunch rush. Then again, though, the dinner and after-work rush was even worse.

It wasn’t until Dean had finished his shift – thankfully, a day one – and was back home that he had the time to look at his new gift. This time, his admirer had left a gardenia, according to the note attached in the same elegant handwriting as before. Dean couldn’t jump onto his computer quickly enough to look up the meaning of the flower.

_Gardenia: ‘you’re lovely; secret love’._

The grin that found its way onto Dean’s face stayed there for the rest of the day.

* * *

 

**Day 3:**

“Whoever they are, they’ve got a serious thing for you,” Jo commented during Dean’s next shift. Dean was a tad ashamed to admit how eager he was to see if his secret admirer would leave another flower for him, and he had been right: Meg had passed on a third gift with a wide smirk on her face and a warning to not let Ellen see him slacking off again. He wasn’t sure whether Meg actually liked him or not, but she _did_ always have his back when he needed it.

“Just wish I knew who they were,” Dean commented, staring down at the flower in his hand: a musk rose “And what this means, ‘cause waiting till I get home to look it up kills me.”

Jo patted Dean on the shoulder with a mocking smile and flounced off to tend the bar.

“What, you haven’t memorised the website yet?” Meg’s drawl made Dean want to roll his eyes. “The great Dean Winchester isn’t as great as everybody thinks he is?”

“Fuck off, Meg,” Dean retorted, though not nastily. Meg’s bright red lips curved into a smile.

“Fine. I mean, I _was_ going to tell you what it meant and put you out of your misery…”

“You can speak in flowers?”

Meg rolled her eyes.

“It’s called floriography, dumbass. Learnt it from my cousin, Lilith – hilarious when you consider how much of an utter witch she is. And her little sister, Ruby.”

“Just tell me, Meg.”

“It’ll cost you.”

Grinding his teeth, Dean slipped her a fiver, which she pocketed with a sweet smile.

“It means ‘charming’. I’m not sure _what_ he sees in you but –”

“He?” Dean seized on this. “You know who’s leaving me these flowers?”

Meg’s sweet smile turned sickly sweet.

“Not telling, Freckles. I make a promise, I keep it. But he’s _so_ sweet on you. I swear, I had to hear the whole sob story about how you probably don’t even know he exists and oh, you’re going to think he’s a weirdo for leaving you flower messages. I laughed. I cried. I puked in my mouth a little.”

Before Dean could ask her anything else, she sauntered off to help Jo at the bar. Dean huffed, then carefully pocketed the rose and got back to work before Ellen caught him yet again. He hadn’t exactly been setting a good track record this week.

* * *

 

**Day 5:**

Dean now fully understood the Pavlov’s dog thing as he marched into work after his Saturday off; as soon as he entered The Roadhouse, his mood rose dramatically and he was immediately looking forward to his secret admirer’s next gift.

“You’re pathetic, you know that?” Jo commented cheerfully as Dean started on pulling all of the chairs off the tables and positioning them just right. “I’ve never seen someone that excited to get a flower from their stalker.”

“You’re just jealous because someone likes my handsome face and not your ugly mug,” Dean said just as cheerfully. Jo flipped him off.

But today, things went differently. As he was serving one of their regulars at the bar – Gordon, a total asswipe who Dean had never forgiven for beating Sam up at high school until he had put a stop to it – he looked over at one of the quieter tables to see that Castiel was back. His stomach lurched pleasantly, until he realised that Meg was once again leaning in close and whispering to him with a sly grin.

“Watch what you’re doing, Winchester,” Gordon snapped. Dean snapped out of his thoughts to see that he was still pouring Gordon’s beer, the alcohol gushing out of the overfilled glass. Shit. Good thing Ellen wasn’t around or he’d have been toast.

“Whatever,” he muttered, thrusting the drink at Gordon. He snuck another glance at Castiel and Meg to see Meg laughing and ruffling Castiel’s hair as Castiel gave her something, and his mood dropped even further. In fact, a dark storm cloud almost descended on him. He hadn’t known that he was still into Castiel until seeing the guy again but there went his hopes that Castiel was the secret admirer; he was clearly together with Meg, if Dean’s observations were any indication.

But then Meg pushed off from where she was leaning against Castiel’s table and approached Dean. His heart leaped into his throat at the sight of the flower in Meg’s hands, and his eyes darted from the flower to Castiel, who seemed to be focusing extra hard on the soda in front of him.

“Wait, he –?”

Meg just smirked and thrust the flower at him. Dean shakily took it and read the note, which informed him that this flower was a yellow tulip.

“ _There’s sunshine in your smile_ ,” she recited in a bored voice.

“I – _Castiel_?” Dean spluttered. “ _He’s_ the one who – but I thought you two were together!”

“Clarence?” Meg wrinkled her nose. “Been there, tried that, way back in sophomore year. Now I help him actually adult – y’know, like leaving flowers for the guy he talks my ear off about.”

Dean just stared down at the flower in his hand and grinned stupidly as warmth pooled in his stomach.

“At the risk of sounding like I actually like you, get over there and be cheesy with him,” Meg drawled. “You’re nowhere near as macho as you like to believe you are, Winchester.”

“And you’re even more of a bitch than I used to think you were,” Dean quipped back. Meg smiled mockingly at him.

“Guilty as charged. Now go talk to him. Also, if you hurt him, I’m morally obliged as his friend to cut your dick off and shove it down your throat.”

“Noted. But give me till tomorrow. I got an idea.”

* * *

 

**Day 6:**

Tucking that morning’s purchase away in his waist apron, Dean got to work helping Gabriel and Meg take orders and serve, while Jo and Ash tended the bar. He was thrumming with excitement, waiting until Castiel inevitably came in again today, and he knew that Meg could tell because of the little smirks she kept shooting him. It was only an hour later when she sidled up to him, a bowl of hot fries in her hands.

“I’ll take that,” she said brightly, tugging Dean’s order notebook from his hands and ripping out the order he was taking to the counter. “And you take these.”

She dumped the bowl into his hands, along with a lavender rose.

“ _Enchantment_ ,” she provided helpfully. “And those fries are for Clarence. Get on over there.”

Dean took a moment to compose himself and carefully tuck the rose away, then approached Castiel’s table.

“Here you go,” he forced himself to say perkily, his heart racing. Castiel looked up at him and smiled and it was as though Dean had decided to down a massive hot chocolate in one swig.

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel said. Dean shivered at that deep voice, which had always been one of the biggest things that had attracted him to the dark-haired guy. Before he could lose his courage, he pulled out the flowers he’d bought from the local florist that morning and dropped them on the table next to Castiel.

“Don’thesitatetoaskifyouneedanythingelse,” Dean blurted out, then made a quick escape before Castiel could say anything, his cheeks flaming. From the other side of the place, he watched Castiel carefully pick up the flowers and examine them, then read the notes that Dean had attached to them. Thankfully, before Castiel could look up and try to find him, Jo waved him over to the bar and Dean hurried over, grateful for the distraction.

“I’m going on break, so you get to cover me with Ash!” Jo chirped. “Have fun!”

Dean normally would have called some sort of parting insult at her but his mind was too preoccupied with utter terror over how Castiel might react to the flowers. Would he like them? Or had he and Meg just been playing one huge trick and the guy didn’t really like him? Dean didn’t think that Castiel was the type to do something like that, but he knew Meg definitely was.

Ironically, he was saved from his racing mind by the very person responsible for this freak-out approaching the bar.

“What can I get for you?” Dean said quickly, his words tripping over themselves in their haste to escape. In reply, Castiel held out the flowers.

 _‘Shit,’_ Dean thought. _‘He hates them, I was such an idiot, I’m gonna kill that Meg bitch –’_

“I was hoping you could fill me in on their meanings.” Castiel kept his voice low, so as not to broadcast their situation to the entire place. “Meg refuses to tell me and insists that I have to ask you myself.”

Dean relaxed a fraction. Okay, so Castiel _had_ been his secret admirer. Unless the guy’s a superb actor, Dean couldn’t detect any hint of malice or trickery from him – and Dean considered himself a pretty good judge of character. But there was still no guarantee that Castiel wasn’t gonna get spooked by Dean’s reciprocation and back out of the whole thing.

Swallowing, his throat suddenly dry, Dean pointed at the first flower: a white, daffodil-type one with a yellow centre.

“Jonquil,” he croaked. “ _Love me; affection returned_.”

There was a sharp intake of breath from Castiel. Dean continued to name and describe the flowers.

“Forsythia,” he said, gesturing to the yellow one. “ _Anticipation_.” The next was a purple and white tulip. “Variegated tulip. _Beautiful eyes_. And that’s a white violet. _Let’s take a chance on happiness_.”

They fell silent after that. Dean coughed awkwardly and scrambled to serve customers, and when he chanced a peek at Castiel, his insides fluttered at the small smile on the other man’s face.

“Uh…tomorrow at six? Here?” Dean said tentatively. He couldn’t believe how freaking nervous he was – like he was some blushing chick – but then again, he’d never had someone freaking leave him flower messages before, so he figured he was entitled to be a bit of a chick. Castiel’s smile widened.

“That would be perfect, Dean.”

Dean spent the rest of the day floating in a haze, totally oblivious to Meg’s taunting smirks and jabs.

* * *

 

**Day 7:**

Oh, God. What if Castiel hated the green shirt Dean was wearing? What if the guy thought he was a total loser and decided that thank you, he had to leave? What if –

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean jumped and whirled around to see Castiel standing behind him, dressed in a blue button-down shirt and grey jeans, one hand behind his back. All of the moisture promptly evaporated from his mouth, leaving it dry as a desert.

“Hey, Cas,” he said hoarsely. “Uh, I can call you that…right?”

Castiel smiled.

“Of course. My older brother, Luc, calls me ‘Cassie’, which I’m not fond of…but I don’t mind Cas.”

There was a silence. Then, as if rehearsed, both of them brought the hands behind their backs around to the front to reveal a flower. Dean’s stomach jolted.

“Got you this,” he blustered.

“I brought you this flower,” Castiel blurted out at the same time. They grinned and held out their gifts for the other to take.

“Calla lily?” Dean frowned, squinting at the note.

“ _Beauty_ ,” Castiel said softly, examining the flower that Dean had given him. “You’re exquisite, Dean. I’ve thought that for years but I was always too shy to talk to you.”

Butterflies were flying all around inside Dean.

“Coral rose?” Castiel continued, examining the pinkish-orange rose that Dean had given him. Dean licked his lips.

“ _Desire_ ,” he said slowly. “Hope that’s not too forward or anythin’.”

Castiel looked up and beamed, then took a step forward and leaned in. Dean let out a surprised groan when Castiel brushed their lips together in a gentle kiss, and he reached up to cup Castiel’s face – carefully, so that he didn’t crush the lily – and deepened the kiss, swiping his tongue across the seam of Castiel’s mouth. As Castiel made a soft sound and parted his lips, Dean drank in the pure taste of Castiel.

They finally separated for air a short while later, both panting. Dean grinned at him.

“Wanna go inside?” he said. In response, Castiel reached out and took his hand, linking their fingers.

“Actually, I was hoping that we could go to a nearby field. There are sunflowers everywhere there, and it’s where I go when I want to clear my head. It’s especially beautiful in the springtime.”

Unable to help himself, Dean leaned in and kissed Castiel again.

“Whatever you want, Cas.”


End file.
